I Am
by Aro the Purple Demon
Summary: George thought Fred was gone. But he's not. Not really.


I am

._.

George stood at Fred's grave, his family moving away slowly, as if to hold onto the boy a moment longer. Percy rested a hand on the one eared boy's shoulder before walking away, crystal clear tears falling from his eyes.

_~Do not stand at my grave and weep;~_

George looked at the headstone, imagining it as a great headboard to Fred's bed. It disturbed him to know his twin lay below the freshly turned soil, sleeping an eternal slumber. But perhaps he could still wake up. No, George knew his brother was gone, nothing left but a mortal shell.

_~I am not there. I do not sleep.~_

A gentle breeze blew through the trees, making the leaves around him swirl, brushing against his face like soft fingers. With a final tear, George turned away from his brother's grave and followed the line of black cloaked figures to the place he had lived all his life.

_~I am a thousand winds that blow,~_

George stood before Fred's grave once more, wrapped tightly in an old cloak as the snow fell around him. With a flick of his wand, warm blue flames encircled the headstone like a wreath of saphire roses. Fred had always been the one to toss his covers off, leaving him shivering in the night air. It seemed like he still forgot to conserve heat. With a sad sigh, he walked away once more.

_~I am the diamond glints on snow,~_

It was summer, and George Weasley was once again found at his twin brother's grave. Warm sunlight stretched it fingertips to him, making the fields around him glow gold. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes as warmth flooded over him. With a final glance back at the headstone, he walked away.

_~I am the sunlight on ripened grain,~_

George stood before his brother's resting place yet again, the rain pouring around him, making his slightly overgrown red hair stick to his face. The setting, however, did not seem to affect his mood, for the man had a slight smile on his face as if realizing something for the first time. He knelt down in the mud for a moment, placing a single picture frame on the headstone before walking away.

The figures in the picture waved up at no one in particular, George standing behind the dark skinned Angelina as she held a tiny baby boy in her arms.

_~I am the gentle autumn's rain.~_

George groaned as he opened his blue eyes. He rolled over and was met by a pretty woman, looking at him with a sleepy smile and dark brown eyes. With a slight grin, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, resting a hand on her growing stomach.

_~When you awaken in the morning's hush,~_

George smiled, slightly anxious, as he watched his two year old son zoom around on a toy broomstick his Aunt Ginny bought him for Christmas. Said woman was sitting in a corner with Angelina, resting a hand on the bump of her stomach as little James peeked over the soft blankets at the baby girl in the former Quidditch captain's arms. A slight rush went through George as he looked at his family.

_~I am the swift uplifting rush,~_

A man by the name of George, looked over at his nephew, James, and his son, Fred II, as they snuck around the shop. An amused smile played across his features as they tried to pull a box of Mayhem Markers off a shelf. He shook his head, as he approached them. They looked up at him with fearful brown eyes as he reached towards them. With a smile, he handed them the box, figuring it would be alright to let them do what they did best. They flitted along the street like tiny birds in flight, racing towards a man with messy black hair and green eyes.

_~Of quiet birds circled flight~_

George lay on his bed, watching Angelina comb her hair at the mirror. She watched him discretely, a smile on her pretty lips. The door cracked open slightly, revealing a tiny dark haired girl and Freddie. With a confused expression, his wife picked up their sniffling daughter as their son crawled under the covers with his father. George rolled his eyes as his family surrounded him, glancing up at the stars outside the window. A particularly bright one shimmered, as if laughing at his situation.

As he drifted off, George was reminded of the mischevious glint Fred always had in his eyes, so similar to the star's shine.

_~I am the soft stars that shine at night.~_

"Daddy, is this your brother?" a young boy asked, dark red hair falling in his blue eyes.

"Yep, this is your Uncle Fred, kiddo." the older man said quietly, smiling fondly at the grave. The boy paused for a moment, frowning as he thought of something.

"But my name is Freddie!" he protested. George chuckled slightly, picking up his young son.

"Yes, yes it is." With one last glance at his brother, he walked off, meeting Angelina and a small girl named Roxanne on the hill.

_~Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die.~_


End file.
